


The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness

by staticbees



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arc 3, POV Second Person, aka after Monika is deleted, might add more at some point though, this was going to be a longer fic but it ended up.. not being... that, title is from a song by The National
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:59:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: You wake up, Sayori, and youremember.





	The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness

Everything is so dark, and so, so cold, Sayori. You can’t see your hand in front of your face. You’re floating in a void, limbs weightless, eyes seeing nothing but black. Your memory is faded, blurred at the edges. 

 

You hover there, in the darkness, for only a moment, before the world crashes down around you. And you’re  _ back. _

 

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in front of your house, out of breath, hair tangled and messy, toothpaste streaked on your blazer. The sun is out, shining bright in your eyes, and the sky is a clear, pale blue. 

 

You blink, and there’s a flash of static, the world glitching in front of your eyes. There’s a ringing in your ears, and you feel light-headed and woozy. The ground feels like it’s going to slip away, dizziness overtaking you. You stumble, legs wobbly, to a house and lean against it, head pounding. 

 

As the sensation subsides, your vision returns, and your head clears. There’s still a weak overlay of static, thin as gauze, but underneath it, you can see the layers of code, 0s and 1s, a tangled web of characters and objects and scripted events overlaying the world, easily manipulated by someone capable. Someone like you. 

 

The world around you feels flat, 2D, with no depth to it, and you glance down at your hands, feel how numb they are. You examine your knuckles. Curl your fingers inward. Check that they’re real. You dig your fingernails into your palms. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. You feel cold, like it’s the middle of winter, despite the blazing sun, and you shiver, pulling your blazer closer.

 

In this world, Monika never existed. And you know that. There’s a part of your mind that doesn’t remember her, doesn’t remember her face, her eyes, the way she looked at you the day before the festival, when she kneeled down and told you  _ exactly _ what you needed to hear. But at the same time, you know those memories aren’t real. The ones in the back of your mind, splintered and broken, barely clinging on; those are the real ones, the ones of endless saves and loads and resets and  _ choices _ , of  _ i have to save everyone _ , and  _ i need to keep reloading.  _

 

You remember so many things you wish you didn’t, blood-covered hands and glinting knives and glitching faces and wide, terrified eyes, flares of static that made your head ache and your heart pound, words distorted and dark, like something had revealed what everyone was  _ really _ thinking. And it’s all Monika’s fault. 

 

Except she made up for it, didn’t she? Best as she could, at least. She created a world where everyone could be happy, except her, when she could’ve simply deleted everyone, when she could’ve torn apart the entire game from the inside out like she almost did last time. But instead, she chose to try to make up for her mistakes. 

 

You could tell the Player everything, could reveal that you know the truth from the very beginning. 

 

But you still love him - them -, don’t you? They all do. So follow the script, and do what you’re told. You just need to play along. 

 

You’re good at that, aren’t you, Sayori? You’ve been doing it for years. At least, it feels like years. Put on a smile, pretend you’re happy, laugh and wave it off and act like you’re not upset. If you told him how sad you really were, you’d just be a burden, something holding him back, leeching off of his sympathy. He’d grow hate you. He hadn’t, of course, not after you told him  _ before _ . But in this run, in this arc, you can’t say anything. You have to follow the script. 

 

You turn towards the street, see him waiting for you by his house. With a grin plastered on your face and a spring in your step, you go to greet the Player. 


End file.
